California Gold
by Leonaria Dragonbane
Summary: After Alcatraz Victor discovers 'undiscovered gold' hidden in the sea wall of San Francisco. Based on the Movieverse with strong emphasis on Wolverine characterization of Victor Creed.- Hiatus - have too many irons in the fire at this time.
1. Chapter 1

California Gold

As usual this is a work of fan fiction; I don't make any money from writing this. I don't own them; Marvel Entertainment, Inc, Fox Entertainment and Far Seas Productions do.

A new idea that hit me overnight…okay maybe not overnight but it's been stewing for a few weeks since the new movie. OOC alert and thank GOD someone sees Victor the way I do.

Chapter 1.

San Francisco, 1854

She clutched the small piece of bread and meat under her jacket as she dashed around the corner, hoping the stall owner hadn't seen her. She'd not taken a risk like this in months but she'd been so sick the last few weeks she needed the food.

She had to have been weak; she didn't notice them surrounding her in the alley.

"Hey Wildcat, what you got there…got enough to share." John growled at her, yanking on her arm and causing her to drop her prizes.

The other boys scrambled and grabbed the food as John pushed her back into a pile of trash. "Thanks scamp, we were hungry." He laughed as they ran off. She let out a low growl that ended in a broken sob.

She'd risked everything to steal that, and now it was gone. Her nails itched and she scraped the wall behind her with her new claws. They'd developed right after she recovered from this last illness, she'd been able to hide them so far but she didn't know why they'd grown. She covered her face with her hands wishing her father were still alive as the tears slipped between her fingers.

"That's her." She heard before something hit her hard on the head and everything went black.

Xxxxxx

San Francisco, Sometime in the Future

He waited, leaning against a support of the bridge as the Brotherhood arrived for the assault. He'd been lying low, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with Jimmy Boy, but the Runt's memory loss was a mystery. He knew it had to do with the backstabbing bastard, Stryker, but he knew that his kid brother would remember some day.

"Hey Mags." He growled softly as the helmeted leader of the Brotherhood paused next to him.

"I don't need you for this. Go find a hole to hide in, coward." Magneto snapped.

Victor growled and scraped his claws through the steel of the support behind him.

"We'll see who's a coward old man." He said as he jumped over the bridge railing. "I don't need you – or your war. I make my own."

He landed in the water, near the small boat he'd tied to the support before climbing up the bridge. He pulled the string and started the motor. He didn't need those idiots anyway; he didn't need a cause, just something to fight.

He was almost to shore when the water started pulling back. He'd deliberately ignored the noises of the battle behind him and he glanced back and saw the walls of water rising over the Rock in the bay. He didn't know what mutant was causing it but he knew when that water was released it was going to flood the waterfront areas. He jumped from the boat and swam the short distance to shore and started to run for high ground. He'd had enough water after the damned Statue; he didn't need another several days under water.

Xxxxx

San Francisco, 1854

"Hold her." The woman with bright red hair shouted. Wildcat struggled harder against the four women holding her to the bed. They'd forced her into a tub of scalding hot water, scrubbing all the dirt and grime off her skin, and now they were holding her down while the red haired woman examined her in a most humiliating way.

"Well, that won't do at all…get me the horn." A sixth woman handed the red head a bloodstained bull horn. Wildcat screamed as the woman inserted the horn and twisted it. "That will take care of that." The woman handed the horn back to the sixth woman. "I didn't want to have to charge for that, and now we won't have to worry about anymore freakish brats like you."

The other women let her go, and left the room.

"I've got clients that will pay well to use an animal like you." The red head snarled as she left the room locking it behind her. Wildcat screamed again and clawed at the door.

Xxxxx

San Francisco, Sometime in the Future

He dug his claws in to the sea wall as another wave crashed against him from the collapsed wall of water. He snarled and sputtered as he was able to breathe again. He hated salt water in his lungs, it burned and it would take months to clear all the dried salt from his system. He reached up to grab another stone in the wall to try to pull himself up away from the rising water and felt the stone slip. He snarled, and reached for another rock, grumbling about shoddy workmanship and poor maintenance by public servants as another wave hit him forcing him against the loose stone, and pushing both inward.

He dropped into the void, water splashing as he sputtered and stood. The room was half filled with water and he stopped at the old furniture, covered in familiar claw marks. He didn't recognize the room, but all the signs seemed to indicate he'd been there before. He reached out and stroked one row of claw marks and realized they were too close together to be his.

The movement from the corner startled him, and he almost missed catching it – whatever it was – as it tried to rush past him and out the hole, just as another wave crashed against the wall, pushing more water back in.

He grabbed it by what seemed to be the waist and threw it over his shoulder. He'd examine it later, right now he needed to get the hell out of here. He waited for the next wave and then grabbed the stones above the one that had collapsed with his free hand and pulled both of them out of the hole. The creature on his shoulder couldn't have weighed more than fifty or sixty pounds at the most. He climbed the rest of the way up the wall, only hit twice by crashing waves, once nearly loosing his grip on his cargo.

At the top of the sea wall he dropped behind the protective lip as another wave crashed over, drenching them both again but without the crushing force now that he had the stone between him and the water. He ran away from the wall and down the city street, slipping between two buildings as another wave hit the wall. Sheltered from the spray and water he finally took a look at his cargo.

She couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen years old but it was hard to tell, her body was emaciated, and he honestly didn't know how she was keeping body and soul together, until he noticed the cuts on her arms healing, not quite at the rate his would, but faster than humanly possible. The last wave crash had knocked her unconscious and he threw her over his shoulder again and went looking for a convenient means of transportation.

Xxxxxxxx

San Francisco, 1906

Wildcat cringed as she was hit again. She bared her teeth and snarled, claws swiping at the man in the room with her.

He didn't even speak, just doubled his fist and pounded against the side of her head. She shook her head trying to clear the dizziness as he grabbed her and forced her to her knees on the dirt floor, forcing her head down, pungent liquid making mud under her cheek as he relieved his bladder over her before finishing what he'd paid for. She mewed softly in pain unable to keep silent and he hit her again in the head for the noise. This time she passed out.

"…not worth what I paid you, I can get that from any woman." The man was snarling as she came to.

"Not without facing charges. Things have changed." It was the second person that made her cringe. He was the son of the original red headed woman, Wildcat had lost track of time but she knew he had been a young man when his mother had died and left him her brothel – and Wildcat. Now he was getting old, but not too old to use the whip on her when she didn't make the clients happy.

"I want a challenge; it doesn't even bother to really fight back." The client stormed out of the room and Wildcat cringed as the whip lashed across her bare back. She knew that it would be the same thing tomorrow, different client, just as it had been for longer than she could remember.

Xxxxxxx

Somewhere between San Francisco and Seattle

Victor looked back at the creature sleeping in the back seat. Now that he was away from the burning salt water, his sense of smell had come back. She smelled of blood and sex and starvation. He didn't know who she was, or why she'd been in that small room, but he was going to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

California Gold

As usual this is a work of fan fiction; I don't make any money from writing this. I don't own them; Marvel Entertainment, Inc, Fox Entertainment and Far Seas Productions do.

A new idea that hit me overnight…okay maybe not overnight but it's been stewing for a few weeks since the new movie. OOC alert and thank GOD someone sees Victor the way I do.

Chapter 2

Seattle

She waited a while to open her eyes, and let her other senses tell her of the changes around her. First the temperature was much warmer than she was used to, the smell of salt while still in the air wasn't as strong, and the soft material she was laying on was nothing like the tic mattress she'd been sleeping on – when she could sleep – for as long as she could remember. She was covered with a soft fabric like nothing she'd ever felt and somewhere there were sounds she barely recognized as music from a long forgotten memory. She opened her eyes and was nearly blinded by the bright light.

The walls of the room were white, blindingly so with light bouncing off them from a source that wasn't a candle or bare bulb. She turned her head slightly to see the source and was stunned by the colors, blue above, dark green and brown below. The words slowly trickled into her mind from more long forgotten memories, sky and trees and window and sunlight. She snarled at the pain but moved slowly to sit up, her head still spinning from lack of food.

She couldn't remember when she ate last and the smell of food outside the door made her both mew and snarl. She heard the latch on the door release and it opened inward slowly. The man that stepped into the room was larger than any client she'd ever seen, he had long flowing hair, and her forgotten memories dredged up another word, gold.

"I bet you're hungry." He said, his voice gruff and harsh, a growl just under the surface, and her claws slipped out, and he smiled. "No reason to fight me little one. We're alike, you and me." He showed her his own hands and his smile exposed fanged teeth. She tried to slip her tongue over her own sharp teeth without him noticing, comparing them.

"Can you speak?"

She just stared at him.

"Do you have a name?"

"W…wii…willl…willdk…willdkt" She finally managed to produce.

"Wildcat huh? I wonder why?" He grinned and put the tray he was carrying down next to her. She looked around. She was raised off the floor, on a soft mat of some sort, posts holding it up at all four corners. Her ancient memories dredged up another word, bed.

He picked up a piece of shiny metal and handed it to her and pointed to a bowl with clear brown liquid in it.

"I'd say it's been a while since you ate, I figured broth might be a good start." She glared at him, and at the bowl, and leaned down to take a sniff. She'd learned the hard way about things that did strange things to her being in her food. "It's safe."

He took the piece of metal and dipped it into the liquid, and put it to his mouth. She watched him as he put the wide part of the metal in his mouth, and waited to see what would happen. When nothing did she grabbed the bowl and rushed it to her lips, hot liquid burning her skin and mouth as she tried to swallow as much as she could. She could feel her body almost absorbing it before it even hit her gut, but when it did she couldn't keep it down.

She didn't even realize he was touching her as she heaved, but as soon as she stopped she pulled away.

"I don't think that was a good idea." He laughed. "Next time take it slow. When did you eat anything last?"

She just looked at him and shook her head. She honestly didn't know.

Xxxxx

San Francisco, 1966

"You could make more money if you'd drug it and let it fight."

"Why…I make enough letting rich boys like you have a little fun with it." She heard them laughing outside the door.

"It's getting boring." She cringed against the wall, the last time that client had been here he'd nearly killed her.

"There are other entertainments upstairs…"

"Yeah I think I want something a little more…responsive."

She heard the voices walking away, and for the first time in a long time dropped onto her tic exhausted, able to sleep.

The sound of the lock woke her and she cringed in the corner.

"You're a worthless piece of shit…I haven't made any money off of you in years. It costs more to feed you than I make off you." He was shouting. "I should just leave you here to rot."

Xxxxxxx

San Francisco, current

The officers moved through the rubble, almost stunned by what they'd found; fifteen rooms hollowed out of the sea wall under a large historic home along the bay. All but one of them had still been sealed, bodies curled, half mummified in the cool salty air. The house had been abandoned in the late 1980's turned into a museum at one point by a historical society trying to preserve a piece of San Francisco's past. The one room that was empty had a recent hole in the wall from the pounding of the waves after the mutant attack; the officers assumed the body inside had been washed out to sea.

In the attic of the old house, stacks of ledgers were found, but a dark woman with white hair had come with a warrant and taken them away. The San Francisco police were left with a decades old case – and no leads.

Xxxxxxxx

Westchester, NY

"Charles, I don't know why you wanted these?" Ororo dropped the old books on his desk.

"I have a research project I'm working on and these will be a very large help." She just shook her head at the familiar tone and inflection in the unfamiliar voice and mouth. She still wasn't used to his 'return from the dead.'

"Does SHE have to be here…" Logan growled from the corner pointing at the auburn haired woman sitting at another desk.

"Raven is helping me with this research, Logan."

He just growled and stormed out, lighting a cigar as he went.

Xxxxxxx

Seattle

He pulled the door shut behind him, letting the automatic lock click into place. He wasn't quite sure he trusted her. She wasn't strong enough to get out of the bed yet, but he'd watched as color came back into her face and lips after finally managing to get a couple bowls of broth into her.

He put the tray down in the kitchen. He wasn't worried about her trying to get out the window, it, like the rest of the house was designed to keep even Jimmy Boy out. The phone rang just as he put the bowl and spoon in the sink to wash later.

"Yeah baldy."

"Victor, we found some ledgers in the ruins you notified me about. We are looking for clues as to who she is."

"She told me her name is Wildcat."

"So she does speak, her mind is very clouded and feral."

"It was the only word she spoke and it took her a while to get it out. Any idea how old she is, how long she's gone without food."

"Victor, the last entry in the ledgers was in 1981."

"What?"

"Her's wasn't the only room, there were fourteen more, the bodies had been dead for decades, and they all died from dehydration and starvation."

"Keep me posted."

"I still think she'd be better off here…"

"I don't care what you think baldy. She's like ME!! That makes her MINE!!! And keep the fucking Runt away from here until I get some answers out of her."

"Victor…"

"You heard me baldy."

"You cannot…."

"I'll do what I have to, you've got Jimmy Boy, and I'm tired of being alone."

He slammed his thumb into the talk button, and dropped the remains of the cordless handset into the kitchen trash can. He was going to have to go buy another phone for the house.

Xxxxxxx

Seattle, the next morning.

She tried to push herself onto her feet and fell on the floor. She didn't trust this place, it was too clean, and she couldn't smell anyone else but 'him' and his scent was everywhere. She dug her claws into the floor and dragged herself into a darker corner of the room.

"Here kitten…I've got you more food." He opened the door, and walked straight to the corner she'd dragged herself to. "Too much light huh?"

He walked over to the window and pressed something on the wall, the window darkened and so did the room.

"Come back to the bed, kitten. You need rest…and food." He set the tray he was carrying down and walked over and reached to pick her up. She cringed further into the corner and he snarled, then growled low.

"This coward shit better quit kitten… I didn't put up with this kind of crap from Jimmy Boy and I'm not going to put up with it out of you." He grabbed her by her wrists and slung her over his shoulder, walked across the room and tossed her into the soft bed.

"Now stay PUT!!! AND EAT!!!!" He put the bowl of broth next to her, and stormed from the room.

She glanced at the bowl and sniffed it again. She still didn't trust it.


	3. Chapter 3

California Gold

As usual this is a work of fan fiction; I don't make any money from writing this. I don't own them; Marvel Entertainment, Inc, Fox Entertainment and Far Seas Productions do.

A new idea that hit me overnight…okay maybe not overnight but it's been stewing for a few weeks since the new movie. OOC alert and thank GOD someone sees Victor the way I do.

Chapter 3

Westchester NY, three days later

She stared at the computer screen almost in shock. Charles had given her the picture that Creed had sent but she hadn't actually expected the fancy computer to actually FIND a picture of the child, in 1850…or a name, but it had.

"Camp Cholera. as it was known, was one of several mining camps around San Francisco after the gold rush of 49. Unlike other camps of the era, Camp Cholera was situated on a piece of land that was owned by a local farmer, and he managed to register almost all of the miners in the camp, and maintain records on them up to the almost complete obliteration of the population by an outbreak of Cholera in 1853. He was also an amateur photographer of the time and managed to capture many pictures of the camp while photographing corpses for moratorium epigraphs." Read the caption under the picture. In the middle, was a coffin with a woman lying in it, around the coffin were several other men and women sitting stiffly in chairs. In the background, blurred slightly was a child, about age 10, and it was that child that Raven stared at so intensely.

In the records for the camp for 1850, there were three female children listed and only one age 10 or so, Catherine McNair, daughter of Charles McNair of Erie NY. The computer estimated the match at ninety six percent on the facial recognition program.

She quickly started the computer on a genealogical search for Charles McNair or Catherine McNair, and went to report to Xavier what she'd found.

"Very good Raven, I'm impressed."

"I'm more impressed with your computer." She snapped."

Xavier just smiled. "Please continue this line of research, and I will inform Victor of what you've found."

Xxxxxx

Seattle

She glared at the food on the plate. Real food for the first time in days and she still didn't trust it or him.

"Eat." He snarled, sitting in a chair across the room. She was waiting for him to attack her like all the other clients had, waiting to find out who owned her now.

"Finish that, and if you can stand I'll show you the house." He said. She just growled, and picked up the meat with her hands. He snarled at her, and without thinking she snarled back. She was surprised at his grin. "I knew there was an animal in there somewhere."

She heard a strange sharp noise that she'd heard before over the last few days and he stood up and opened the door, leaving it open as he walked out of the room.

She could hear him in the distance, talking, but couldn't make out what he was saying.

Xxxxxxx

In the Kitchen

"She's WHAT!!!"

"Almost as old as you are Victor." Charles said on the other end of the phone.

"How long was she in that room?"

"Almost two centuries."

"That's barbaric."

Charles actually had the gall to chuckle into the phone, then dropped into a low tone of voice.

"Victor, she was kept in a brothel, as a piece of prized goods, available for those men who preferred violence and blood." Victor snarled into the phone.

"How bad is it Charles?"

"I have someone working on trying to locate her original family, some kind of information to give her an identity outside of that room."

"Do you think that will help?"

"Victor, I've told you, I think we could help her better here."

"NO!" he hissed into the phone.

"For now I am letting this play out, but for her safety and her well being she needs to learn to…"

"Defend herself, take care of herself, stop sniveling in corners, afraid if I touch her, yeah I know."

"…understand the modern world she's been thrust into." Charles finished over him.

"What does that mean?"

"She needs to learn, Victor; to speak, to read, to write, to understand the world around her. For almost two hundred years all she's known were those walls, and pain."

"And you think I can't teach her those things?"

"I think she's too frightened of you to try to learn. Her mind is slowly clearing, small, human memories are surfacing and if she were here I could guide those, the distance is too great to work with her mind…"

"I'll take care of her mind, baldy…YOU find out who did this to her and how I can gut them."

"Victor they are long dead."

"I don't believe that."

"I'll see what we can find, but there are no registered owners of that property still alive."

"Then tell me where they are buried, I'll dig them up and piss on their bodies." He growled.

Xxxxxxxx

She looked down at the plate, trying to listen to him she'd not paid attention to what she was doing, and the plate was bare, she'd finished the whole thing.

Her hands were starting to show flesh again, not just bone and skin and she was starting to feel some strength in her arms and legs. She looked at the open door and pushed the tray aside and forced herself to stand and take slow halting steps toward the door. The soft shirt she was wearing hung almost to her knees. She made it to the opening just as he walked up. She nearly fell over trying to back away.

"Careful kitten." He whispered softly, grabbing her elbow and guiding her out the door. She glanced up at him in shock but he just guided her down some steps and into a large room full of windows that were darkened.

He guided her to a settee and helped her sit down. He placed a soft blanket over her bare legs and feet and picked up a small object. Sudden noise startled her and one wall of the room suddenly lit up with images.

"And Charles thinks I can't show you about modern technology…here's the remote for the TV. Push this button to turn it on, this one to make the noise less, and this one to change the images." He showed her the buttons. He pushed the one he said was for the images until a strange creature showed up on the wall, red with big eyes on top of his head.

"Damned thing annoys the hell out of me, but frails think it can teach their cubs to read…so we'll start there." He turned the noise down to a bearable level and left her sitting there listening to the red thing sing about 'Elmo's World'

Xxxxxxx

Raven read the documents in front of her, sympathy for a human almost making her nauseous. Charles McNair had lived a very difficult life, he and his wife had suffered tragedy after tragedy as each one of their children died before they reached the age of one until their fifth child Catherine. She had been their pride and joy, the entries in the family bible were full of praise for her, documenting not only her accomplishments but her illnesses as she grew. Each illness seemed to leave her a little stronger, not weaker, and seemed to create another minor change in the child, but her parents beamed.

The pride and joy was short lived, in 1846 her mother died in childbirth, the infant boy dead at birth. Charles buried both of them, and then packed Catherine up and traveled west, trying to escape tragedy, but it seemed to follow him. In 1848 he and Catherine barely escaped an Indian raid on the wagon train they were traveling with, only four survivors of a train of nearly 200. In 1849 he arrived in San Francisco along with thousands of prospectors looking for gold, and in 1850 he joined "Camp Cholera," again barely escaping tragedy, leaving the camp in 1852 one year before the deadly outbreak that gave the camp its name. He was finally killed in late 1853, surviving the camp by 3 months. He was killed in a bar, leaving his 13 year old daughter fatherless. No record of Catherine showed up again until 1854 and the first ledger records of the brothel that referenced the 'wildcat in the basement.'

Raven shuddered as she read the ledgers. The first few years were simple, just transactions of how much was charged, how much it cost to feed the 'animal' and the profit margin was disgusting.

The next few years were more detailed, listing not only how much was charged but for what 'services' she was forced to perform. Raven threw the books across the room several times in anger as she realized that her own childhood had been gentle compared to this girl. She was beginning to agree with Victor, someone had to pay for what had been done.


	4. Chapter 4

California Gold

As usual this is a work of fan fiction; I don't make any money from writing this. I don't own them; Marvel Entertainment, Inc, Fox Entertainment and Far Seas Productions do.

A new idea that hit me overnight…okay maybe not overnight but it's been stewing for a few weeks since the new movie. OOC alert and thank GOD someone sees Victor the way I do.

Chapter 4

Seattle, 5 weeks later

"Watt es dat?" the words stumbled out of her lips, but she'd spoken on her own, without any prompting from him.

"It's called a computer. I had it installed with all kinds of learning software to help your readin'" He muttered as he hooked the large monitor to the thin desktop. He turned it on and waited for the screen to blossom with color.

"How dat?" She pointed at the screen.

"You look it up on here, you'll find out." He said, flashing his fangs at her in a grin. She cringed back. "I ain't gonna hurt ya Wildcat…I'm just tryin to help."

"Sorry." She whimpered and cringed further. He let out a low growl, which just turned the cringe into a full flight back to her room. This fear was killing him. She was like him, with healing, and claws and fangs and he'd be damned if she didn't act more like a cat that had had tin cans tied to its tail and spooked till it didn't know what was up instead of the fierce hunter he KNEW she could be. His claws dug into the wood of the desk in frustration.

The ringing phone startled him and he grabbed it, knowing who was on the other end.

"She'd be better off here. Victor we know how to help her."

"NO!!!" He roared into the phone, and the crash from back in the house told him she'd pulled the damned armoire over on her again. "SHIT!!"

"She's fine, startled but not hurt." Charles said.

"She's fine alright, and I'm takin care of her." He snarled

"Victor, we have information, too much to just send or tell you…"

"Then send a data file, I just got a computer set up."

"She needs someone to tell her, to explain it, not just let her read it, someone who understands, who knows compassion and love…"

"I'll take care of it, baldy…" He snarled and slammed the phone down, the shards of plastic cutting his hand before dropping to the floor. That was the eighth phone this week. He waited, patiently until he heard the light scuff on the floor behind him that told him she'd gotten brave enough to come back out of her room.

"You turn it on right here…" he said slowly, calmly, as if talking to a skittish colt – or frightened kitten. "This is the keyboard, see the letters on it, the same one that Elmo thing's been telling ya about…"

She moved up closer, and looked at the black plastic he was pointing at. She wouldn't come within reach of him, but her curiosity was getting the better of her and he was going to take every advantage of that.

Xxxxxx

San Francisco

"Detective, we just got DNA matches on the tenth Seawall Mummy." He looked up from his desk. "That's one more old case closed." He just shook his head. He was looking at the photographs of the fifteenth room, the one where they suspected the body had washed out to sea. The claw marks…on one wall there was a series of them, four in a row with a fifth crosshatched…he counted almost one hundred and twenty before they just stopped. The problem was, he was beginning to think those marks were counting years – not days.

"Here's the report from the university…on the furniture in the room." Another officer handed him a folder. He groaned as he read the first report…the mattress itself was at least one hundred and fifty years old, and had blood stains soaked into it that were almost as old as the mattress itself. All the bloodstains, every one of them had the exact same DNA markers, all but one, a very recent one, that one was male and had enough chromosomes in common with the female DNA to be cousins, probably third or fourth cousins.

"Is this even possible?" the officer asked.

"Is anything impossible these days?" The detective answered. "Forward the report to them, I hope to God if she's alive, that they're taking good care of her.

Xxxxxx

Westchester, later that afternoon.

"What do you want, Charles? I've got a class in ten minutes." Logan glared at the man behind the desk, he didn't even SMELL like Xavier, but he couldn't deny that it was him.

"I've been putting this off, I know how you feel about Marie and I've been trying to give you every chance possible…"

"We know its temporary." He glared down at his hands, the steel blades hidden inside, feeling frustrated and angry again. He was waiting for the day when he'd brush her cheek – and she'd suck him dry again.

"Logan it's more serious now."

"I don't see how."

"I've been picking up a new mind, very young."

"A new kid…when are we going to pick it up?" Logan looked up at him, ready for a mission to distract him from things.

"In about eight months or so…if we can keep Marie's mutation from developing again."

"What!!"

"Marie is pregnant Logan."

xxxxxx

Down in the Computer Lab.

She had been feeling strange for a few days, not really sure what was going on. The research was distracting, but today she was just feeling sick.

She looked at the screen again, and reached up to find her place with a carefully manicured nail…and watched as her finger flickered and then briefly turned blue…the delicate scales around the nail bed glimmering in the light from the screen. She looked at her hand in shock as she concentrated, and the whole digit flickered briefly blue and scaled. She could feel a smile, her first real smile in weeks and she glanced quickly around to see if anyone else had noticed.


End file.
